The man's face softened.

"Don't worry about me, sweetheart," he replied in a

well controlled voice. "I'll soon be through now--soon

be through--and then we'll go away for a long vacation--

for a long vacation."

"I'll give you until noon, Daddy," said the girl in a

voice which carried a more strongly defined tone of

authority than her father's soft drawl, "and then I

shall come into that room, if I have to use an axe, and

bring you out--do you understand?"

Professor Maxon smiled wanly. He knew that his

daughter was equal to her threat.

"All right, sweetheart, I'll be through by noon for

sure--by noon for sure. Run along and play now, like a

good little girl."

Virginia Maxon shrugged her shapely shoulders and shook

her head hopelessly at the forbidding panels of the door.

"My dolls are all dressed for the day," she cried,

"and I'm tired of making mud pies--I want you to come out

and play with me." But Professor Maxon did not reply--

he had returned to view his grim operations, and the

hideousness of them had closed his ears to the sweet

tones of the girl's voice.

As she turned to retrace her steps to the floor below

Miss Maxon still shook her head.

"Poor old Daddy," she mused, "were I a thousand years

old, wrinkled and toothless, he would still look upon

me as his baby girl."

If you chance to be an alumnus of Cornell you may

recall Professor Arthur Maxon, a quiet, slender,

white-haired gentleman, who for several years was an

assistant professor in one of the departments of

natural science. Wealthy by inheritance, he had chosen

<<BackPagesTo menuNext>>